


Dirge

by Sinistretoile



Series: Partners [7]
Category: British Actor RPF, Jaguar "British Villains" Commercial, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Childhood Memories, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Funeral, Minor Character Death, Papa gives Thomas a talk, Thomas gets a slap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 20:51:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,926
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile





	Dirge

Amelia's ringtone sounded in the quiet gym. Thomas's grunts of exertion followed by the muffled whump-whump of his fists against the heavy bag didn't slow. The chain that held the bag aloft clinked. Sweat ran down his temples and into the day's scruff on his jaw. Sweat had soaked his chest, back and underarms of his sleeveless tee. There were spots on his legs as well. All over, his muscles screamed for him to stop, but he pushed through the pain.  
Five minutes later, her ringtone sounded again. He spared a look at his phone this time. His jaw clenched, his nostrils flared, but he did not pick up. He heard a tap on the glass front. For him to hear it over the music and this far back meant that tap was a fist. He dropped his fists and fell out of stance. He sighed heavily, snatching up the towel on the top rope of the boxing ring as he sauntered toward the front door. He passed the towel over his face and under his chin then over the back of his neck.  
Thomas's gut twisted. Amelia stood on the other side of the glass door with her arms crossed over her chest. Her brow furrowed and her lovely face set in a frown. Guilt and regret clawed at his insides. He unlocked the door and held it open for her. She stepped in, her sneakers squeaking on the concrete floor as she turned.  
He closed the door behind her, raking his fingers through his sweat soaked hair. He twisted the lock, gathering strength to face her. He turned with an apology on his opening mouth. Her open hand slapped his cheek hard enough to turn his head. "I've been calling you since six this morning. Mick said you haven't answered his calls either. That he got a message this morning to cancel all your meetings and close the gym for the day."  
Thomas rolled his neck then looked her square in the eye. "Belle's funeral is tomorrow."  
"I am aware. I've rescheduled all our meetings for next week."  
"I needed time alone."  
"From me?"  
"Especially from you." Amelia flinched as surely as if he'd just slapped her back. "My head's not right, ma reine." He reached for her, but she stepped back. He didn't drop his hands but didn't chase her. "I didn't want to lash out at you and hurt you."  
"So instead, you leave me before I'm even awake then ignore me all day. I've been worried sick. Trying to run both our businesses and fielding calls from your grandfather."  
He reached for her again. She stepped back once more, but he followed this time, catching her wrists. She twisted and jerked them back then slapped him hard again. His hands closed on her wrists painfully tight and yanked her against him. "I'm a prick. I didn't want to hurt you but did anyway." His cheek stung from the second slap. He tasted copper in his mouth. His tongue probed his lip where his teeth had cut it. "I'm sorry."  
"Don't scare me like that again."  
"I won't." Their eyes blazed into each other. His thumbs caressed the backs of her hands.  
"Promise."  
"I promise, darling."  
When he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, Amelia clung to his waist. "I need you, Thomas. I need you with me. We're equal partners. One hundred percent of everything, including each other. You can't check out on me like that. What if Carrico had made a move?"  
"I'm sorry. I didn't think." He nudged her back with his chin until she understood what he was doing and leaned her head back to look at him. "Do you forgive me, ma reine?" She swallowed and nodded. He kissed her sweetly. "Let me get my bag and we can go home."  
"You mean out to your grandfather's."  
"What?" He turned as he lifted his gym bag onto his shoulder.  
"Thomas, you told your grandfather we'd stay the night at the manor so he wouldn't be alone." His shoulders slumped and he looked positively defeated, drained even. All the running and weights and boxing hadn't sapped him as fully as her words did. He'd have to spend the night where his grandmother was everywhere. Thomas wrapped his arm around her waist. She mirrored the action and laid her head on his shoulder. "I'll be there, mon chevalier."  
"Thank Christ for that."

Thomas Hiddleston Sr. sat next to the fireplace with a whiskey. Ella Fitzgerald on the Victrola. His finger tapped against the glass as his gaze flicked to the clock on the wall. It was late, later than he normally stayed up. But he couldn't stand going to sleep alone in the big manor house.  
"Mr. Hiddleston, your grandson and Ms. Montgomery have arrived. Shall I show them to their room?"  
"Not quite yet, send him in here."  
"Yes, sir." Thomas Sr. set his glass upon the small round table next to the old wing back chair and rose. He smoothed the burgundy smoking jacket flat. He'd always been a fit man but age and gravity do tend make the flesh sag. And since his last heart attack, he'd been forced to cut back his activity. Thus, the belly his late wife had grown to love.  
"Papa?" Thomas ducked his head in the open door, pulling Amelia in behind him. He let go of her hand and went to his grandfather. The elder Hiddleston clasped his grandson's shoulders in surprisingly strong hands. Thomas looked down. "I'm sorry we're so late."  
"Thomas." He looked up at his grandfather receiving his third slap of the evening. "That's for worrying both myself and Amelia. She's been practically in tears all evening." Guilt and regret twisted his insides again. She hadn't told him he'd made her cry. Now, he felt like even more of a prick. "I'm tired. If you need anything, ask Mark."  
Thomas Sr. leaned in and kissed Amelia's cheek as he walked slowly out of the room. A cold front had moved in and settled in his bones, making it harder for the grieving old man to walk.  
Amelia touched Thomas's shoulder. "Mon chevalier?"  
"I'm so sorry." He pulled her into his arms and held her close. He nuzzled her hair and breathed her in deep. He didn't realize he was sobbing until they sunk to the floor. She held his head to her chest, hushing him and rocking back and forth.

~*~

Thomas and Thomas Sr. met at the foot of the stairs. "Morning, Papa."  
"Morning, son. How'd you sleep?"  
"Terribly, but Amelia helped me through."  
"She's a good woman, Thomas."  
"I know. I'm glad you introduced us, Papa."  
They walked into the dining room to find the kitchen door propped open. Amelia's laughter drew their attention to the kitchen. Mark stood at the stove, frying bacon. She leaned against the counter by the sink, sipping her coffee. Thomas's chest clenched at the sight of her. The sun back lit her copper tresses. He crossed the kitchen to her and tipped her chin up. "Thomas?"  
"I love you, ma reine." He smiled down at her, rubbing her chin with his thumb.  
"I love you, mon chevalier." She smiled up at him, clasping her hands around his waist. He nuzzled his nose against hers. "Coffee?"  
The commercials on the radio ended. The Beatles 'She loves you' filled the kitchen. Thomas and his grandfather looked at each other. Mark poured Thomas Sr. and Thomas each a cup of coffee. Amelia danced around the island. Suddenly, Thomas Sr. grabbed her hand twirled her around the table and the island, singing off-key.  
Thomas sipped his coffee then sat the cup down. "Excuse me, Papa." He cut in and spun her a circle, singing along with every word. She laughed, enjoying the moment of happiness between her love and his grandfather.  
She dropped into a chair. Mark set a plate of biscuits and bacon in front of her. "Good morning to you both."  
"Belle loved that song."  
"You two used to dance around here until she laughed so hard she couldn't catch her breath." They sat on either side of her and all three tucked in. "What time is the funeral, Papa?"  
"Ten."  
They fell into silence as they ate. Amelia waited for Thomas to finish before going upstairs to shower and get ready. She tied Thomas's tie, adjusting it for it before he adjusted it himself. He cupped her face and kissed her tenderly. "Thank you, my darling."  
"For what, baby?"  
"For being here for me."  
"Thomas, I love you. Where else would I be?" They held hands as they descended the stairs. Thomas Sr. waited by the door. Amelia hugged the elder Hiddleston tightly. It took him a moment before he sighed and gave in to the hug. He closed his eyes and for a moment, this day wasn't happening. When he opened them, he pulled her back at the shoulders. She adjusted his tie much like she had his grandson's.

"My Belle has been pure sunshine for the last 70 years. She shined bright through the death of our son. She raised our grandson into the intelligent, strapping man he is today. She mentored talented children all over London. She survived cancer. And through it all, she remained the light of my life through all of this and more. Every up and every down. She stood by me. Even when she probably shouldn't have."  
"I love you, Belle darling. My beautiful, radiant Songbird. I'll see you soon." Thomas Sr. moved away from the microphone. He leaned into the coffin and placed a kiss on her forehead then closed the casket. He sat down next to his grandson, who stood up and squeezed his shoulder.  
Thomas took a deep breath then let it out. Amelia gave him her full attention. "My grandmother was more than just my grandmother. She became my mother after my own was murdered. She raised me to be a strong man. She gave me books and music and art. She taught me respect and confidence and courage."  
He swallowed and looked down at the podium. He glanced at his grandfather then began to sing Belle's favorite song, Frank Sinatra 'Pennies from Heaven'. "Every time it rains, it rains pennies from heaven. Don't you know each cloud contains pennies from heaven."  
Thomas broke down into sobs. Amelia rose to go to him, but he held up his hand. He sniffed until he gained control of himself. The tears didn't stop, but he cleared his throat and finished the song. He sat back down next to Amelia. When she took his hand, he clutched her tightly, locking their fingers together and covering them both with his other hand.  
The elder Thomas squeezed his grandson's shoulder. A shoulder that shook the rest of the service. Amelia wrapped her arm around her love and kept her head against his as he cried soundlessly.

"Papa? You wanted to talk to me?"  
"Sit down, Thomas." Thomas Sr. gestured to the chair across from him. The fire made the room uncomfortably warm. The old man looked into the amber liquid in his glass then swirled it around before setting it on the table. "I wanted to talk to you about Amelia." Thomas settled into the chair, feeling like he was a teenager again. Papa had always had a strong opinion of the girls Thomas dated, so he hardly ever brought any of them home, whether or not they were serious. "How's the business arrangement going?"  
"Quite well. I'm glad you suggested it. She's a good head on her shoulders."  
"She should. I paid for her to go to Cambridge."  
"You what?"  
"Thomas, Amelia's grandfather Jacob was my best mate. Kind of how Mick is for you." Thomas nodded. "Jacob's son wasn't the brightest. He got into drugs and took a swan dive into the Thames when Emmie was 12 years old. Jacob died 3 years later."  
"I don't remember that."  
"You wouldn't have. You were too busy chasing tail round the race track." Thomas leaned back in his chair. He remembered going to a funeral but not many details. Except for it was the only time he'd seen his grandfather cry. Finally, he remembered a red head girl in black dress sitting on bench, pulling the petals off a white rose.  
"Amelia was the girl on the bench."  
Thomas Sr. nodded, he watched his grandson's face. "The girl on the bench." His grandfather let the weight of that sink in. Different thoughts and emotions crossed his face. "How are other things between you?"  
"I love her, if that's what you're asking."  
"No, but that's good, son. She loves you. I can tell. And Jacob liked you. You're a lot like I was at this age. You need someone to complete you. Someone who will be there when your ass is hanging out of hospital gowns and you've got tubes coming out of every orifice. Who knows how you take your tea and how you like your dick sucked."  
"Papa."  
"Boy, have you thought about marriage?"  
"We've talked about it."  
"I didn't ask that. Have YOU thought about marrying that girl?" He had. On more than one occasion. He'd even looked at rings. He hadn't told her when she'd asked about marriage. Thomas Sr. nodded. "What about children?"  
"She doesn't want kids. Not right now."  
"And you?"  
"I don't know. Our lives are dangerous."  
"That they are, son. But you can't let that stop you from having that part of life if that's what you want."  
"Papa, why are you asking me all this?"  
The elder Hiddleston sighed deeply, afterward he looked smaller. His larger than life grandfather looked like a small, frail old man. "Belle completed me. She was opposite. All my flaws, she filled in the cracks. Like that broken oriental pottery she became obsessed about. You need someone to complete you. Whether she's your opposite or your equal. It's what your grandmother would want. For you to be happy."  
"Amelia and I don't need marriage and children to complete each other."  
"You might not need it for yourselves, but you might need it for others. Son, no matter how hard she works or how ruthless she is, these idiots are going to only see her as a skirt. She knows this. You and I know this. She needs you. You need to show them who's in charge. The both of you. As husband and wife"  
"I'm not going to marry her to cement our dynasty, grandfather."  
"I'm not talking an arranged marriage or a marriage of convenience. Marry her because you love her. The dynasty is an added bonus."  
"I'm not comfortable with this conversation."  
"I don't give a good goddamn, boy. I've given you everything you wanted and everything you needed. Because you're my grandson. My son. Now act like it. Be the man your grandmother raised."  
"Grandfather-"  
"Thomas William, you marry that girl. You love her. She loves you. You're mirrors of each other. Amelia is your Belle. You need her. Just as surely as I needed your grandmother." The older Thomas stood up. He clapped his shoulder as he walked out of the room. "Remember what you said about the girl on the bench." The old man left shaking his head and mumbling to himself.  
Thomas looked into the fire. The weight of the day settled on him, settled into him. His grandmother was gone. He'd cried in front of hundreds of people. And Amelia had been right there. She hadn't coddled him like he was weak. She hadn't told him to suck it up because real men don't cry. She'd held him and let him cry and grieve, without judgement yet with support and love.  
He leaned over and grabbed his grandfather's untouched whiskey. He swirled the liquid like his grandfather had done. He drained it then hissed through his teeth. He crossed to the side bar and poured another whiskey. Settling back into the chair, he looked into the fire, his mind heavy and chaotic.  
Amelia touched his cheek, a light brush with the backs of her fingers. "Mon chevalier. Thomas, wake up." Amelia shook his shoulder, bending down to eye level. "Thomas, wake up."  
He finally roused awake, shaking sleep off like a dog with water. "What? What's wrong?" He wiped his face with one of his impressive hands.  
"You fell asleep in the chair." He looked up at her. Her messy bun had come loose, sending tendrils of hair drifting off. Her hazel eyes looked grayish green tonight behind her thick-framed glasses. Her sweater had fallen off her shoulder, leaving her throat and collar bone bare. "When you didn't come to bed, I came to check on you."  
"I'm sorry, ma reine." He uncramped himself from the chair and stood, stretching out his stiff muscles. He enveloped her into his arms, kissing the top of her head. Her arms wrapped around his waist and she pressed her face into his chest. He breathed in deeply through his nose then kissed the top of her head again. She leaned her head back, looking up at him. He looked down at her. "Let's go to bed, my dearest love."  
They unwound from each other but left their arms wrapped around each other's waist. Amelia laid her head on his shoulder as they walked. Thomas glanced down at her, his girl on the bench. Partners 100%. Mirrors. Husband and wife. His grandfather's words weighed on his heart and mind.


End file.
